Meta

I wrote yesterday about how Facebook is hurting creators (mainly because it’s ripping them off) and data leakage aside, that should be enough reason for you to #DeleteFacebook. But maybe you’re simply not ready to delete your account; maybe it’s the only way you can stalk your frenemies from high school or make sure you get invited to your ex’s birthday. I get it. It’s hard to leave a party where everyone’s sitting around pretending…

I’ve been helping musicians with their digital marketing since 2009, long enough to remember when Facebook seemed like it would be Savior of the Arts. In those days, we were frustrated that our custom Myspace coding kept breaking and happy to run to newly-opened business pages on Facebook. Having fans actually hear music on Facebook pages was always a challenge since the available third-party apps kept going out of business — but hey, what artist didn’t want…

I like to daydream, and it’s way too easy to go from blushing at the thought of my next conversation with someone to picturing what our children would look like. I’ve had entire imagined futures with people I never even kissed.

I recently moved to a new apartment and, for unrelated reasons, found myself with a lot more time on my hands. With all the big changes going on, I had high expectations for myself. I was going to play so much music! Get so much writing done! The usual. And then of course I’ve been frustrated with myself that those things haven’t been happening.

It’s a never-ending cycle: expectations, frustration, defeat. Not exactly the most conducive attitude for being creative. I’m trying to be more gentle with myself, give myself space to breathe and grow at the pace I’m going to grow. And that means making room in multiple areas of my life.

A few months ago, I caught a whim to give up drinking for Lent. I had never given anything up for Lent before, but I was ridiculously hungover (again) from not drinking all that excessively (my liver is old). And it was Ash Wednesday. I had long felt that I drank just a little too much and used alcohol as a crutch (“the cure for introversion,” I’d call it), but my drinking was one of a long list of self-improvement issues that I thought I’d get around to eventually. That Ash Wednesday, it became clear that I could do something about my drinking, and I gave it up cold turkey for the six weeks through Good Friday.

With this spur-of-the-moment decision, I unexpectedly changed my life.

Maybe you create because you feel misunderstood. Maybe you got into it to impress the object of your affection. Maybe you do it to spite your parents. Maybe you’re trying to scratch an itch of discontentment that won’t go away. Maybe art is a receptacle for your anxiety. Maybe you think your ideas are better than other people’s. Maybe you’re it this for fame, or money, or accolades. Maybe you use art to build yourself a soapbox. Maybe you’re bored.

There’s something inside of us that’s afraid of boredom. The second we feel boredom, we either try to kill it, by pulling out our phones, checking Facebook, or reading the news; or numb it, by watching TV or drinking alcohol. We turn to something else to distract us from the emptiness of downtime. Boredom whispers that others’ lives are more exciting, that we’re not that special, that we’re just human, that we’re mortal.

Next time you’re trying to bring an idea of yours to life, consider making it a collaboration. The addition of someone who’s not wrapped up in the same ego-drama about your own art can really hold you accountable to getting it done.